


once you leave you can never come back

by makemelovely



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Clary Fray-centric, F/M, POV Clary Fray, Self-Discovery, Sibling Incest, believed sibling incest, but they aren't so, just a bit, they think they're siblings, title from peter pan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makemelovely/pseuds/makemelovely
Summary: Clary used to sit on the couch at one am eating leftover Chinese food and watching Friends reruns on tv. Now she hunts demons at one am. Where did it all go wrong?//or the one where clary looks back at the life she had





	once you leave you can never come back

Clary used to sit on the couch at one am eating leftover Chinese food and watching Friends reruns on tv. Now she hunts demons at one am. Where did it all go wrong?

 

* * *

 

 

One could say that it started when she bumped into Jace and could actually see him. Maybe it was when she was born. One might say it was when she picked up a bow staff and boxing gloves and said I want to do this.

 

Clary would say I don’t know.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you never became a Shadowhunter?” Izzy asks one night, withdrawals making her skin itchy and sweaty.

 

“No.” Clary lies, smiling with pink lips. The twinge of pain in her chest is all she needs for an answer. Clary thinks of gold drenched Sundays, red hair aflame as the sun hits it and she flings paint across the canvas. Maybe she’d be a tattoo artist with ink stained over her skin and a nose piercing and badass friends with motorcycles and leather vests. Maybe she’d attend an art school for college, spend a semester abroad in a foreign country kissing girls who have a different accent. Maybe she’d be living in a shelter, starving like a proper artist.

 

Perhaps she’d have married Simon. Settled down in a house with a white picket fence and two point five kids and a resentment burning deep in her chest. Maybe she’d have explored her sexuality. Maybe she’d have gotten pregnant, and given birth to a daughter with hair that burned as brightly as her own. She would’ve looked deep into blue eyes that would turn the fiercest shade of green and promised her daughter the whole world and given it to her with tired eyes and fingers worked to the bone but it would’ve been worth it.

 

But no. This is her life. Bruises on her ribs, on her pale pale skin. The split lip is bloody, and the runes still burn when she puts them on. “Do you?” Clary manages to ask. All the air in the room has escaped out the door.

 

Izzy laughs, flipping silky black hair over her shoulder. “A bit, here and there.”

 

“Would you trade your life for another?” Clary finds herself asking, a bit afraid of Izzy’s answer.

 

Izzy smiles, a little bit kindly, a little bit pitying. “No, never. You?”

 

 _Yes. A million times yes. I’d do it in a heartbeat._ “No. I don't think I’d be able to leave this all behind.” _I’m wearing chains, Iz. I’ll never be able to go. I’m stuck, Iz, trapped and unable to escape and oh god the taste of my own blood is too familiar._

 

Izzy braids her hair, and Clary ignores the cool press of a blade hidden in her hair. This is what normal looks like now.

 

* * *

 

 

Simon lays at her feet, cold body still and empty brown eyes just _staring._ Clary looks and looks, watching and waiting for Simon to laugh and say _gotcha!_

 

He doesn't move, and Jace shifts uncomfortably beside her. “Clary,” he says in a low voice. “It’s time. Are we burying him?” Clary spots a hint of red on Simon’s lips. She swallows harshly, heart oddly calm in her chest.

 

“No.” Clary mutters, voice stronger than she would've thought. She can feel Jace stiffen beside her, can practically taste his surprise. She reaches out, fingers wrapping around the cool metal of a shovel. She turns to leave, and the image of a lifeless Simon will stay with her forever. It’s burned into her brain. “ _I’m_ burying him.” Clary states as firmly as possible, listening distantly as Jace flings Simon’s body over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

 

She digs up grave dirt and drops it over her best friend’s face so that when he wakes up he’ll suffocate. He’ll choke on grave dirt so that he can be prepared for the holy water he might have to endure later on in unlife.

 

* * *

 

 

Simon attaches his mouth to her throat, fangs piercing her throat. He sucks, and Clary suddenly has weak knees. He sucks and sucks and sucks. _Take it all,_ Clary wants to say. _Take all of my life so you can have yours back._

 

Clary’s vision darkens but she can clearly see the horror in Simon’s lovely brown eyes. “Clary, I’m a monster.” He breathes out even though he doesn't need to breathe. There’s a ring of red around his mouth, slick and probably still warm. Clary leans forward to kiss the blood away, and then Simon continues. “You made me a monster.”

 

Oh. Clary feels like she’s falling into a dark abyss, and all she can see is darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Clary folds her hands around Jace’s neck, heart beating quick against her ribs because Simon is watching and there’s a little bit of the sun in Jace’s golden eyes. “This means _nothing._ ” Clary hisses at him, molds the spark in her body from desire to fury and allows it to glint in her eyes. Jace nods, a little bit frantic and a little bit desperate. Clary inhales, and slams her mouth to Jace’s. At first it’s soft. Timid and unsure and a smidge sweet. Clary leans into it, all the while thinking _This isn't real._

 

And it isn't but Clary allows Jace to slide his tongue in her mouth and clutch her hips too tight. Clary grinds the slightest bit against Jace, opening her mouth against the onslaught of his talented tongue. Jace pulls away, leaving Clary open mouthed and aching.

 

Jace looks at her with pain in his eyes, and Clary turns to Simon. His brown eyes are hurt and filled with the pain of knowing your love isn't yours. Clary swallows a bitter laugh. _Fucking mirror images._ She thinks to herself. Simon leaves and Jace leaves and they are one in the same.

 

* * *

 

 

Simon looks at her like the sight of her red curls and freckled face makes him sick. Clary bites back withering retorts and desperate pleas of _Simon, Simon, you know me. We’re best friends, Simon, remember? Remember, Simon?_

 

Jace can't be in the same room with her because _Clary you smell like paint and vanilla and life and there’s a little bit of green on your elbow and yellow behind your ear and I can't notice these little details because you are my sister._

 

Clary wonders when she stopped caring that Jace was her brother. It just seems like something Shadowhunters do. They’ve always appeared a bit incestuous. Before she would've cringed away with disgust pumping through her veins. Now she barely hides the way her eyes flit over Jace’s body whenever he walks into a room.

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out she and Jace aren't siblings. She feels a twinge of relief, but mostly she's just numb.

 

When Clary was eight she begged her mother for a baby brother. She kind of treated the subject like it was about a puppy. Always asking as if the idea was tangible but in reality was rather abstract.

 

Clary’s always wanted a brother but now she’ll only have one in mundane fantasies.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s like this; Clary has never been normal. The shadow world has always been lurking at the edge’s of her world. And it’s not all bad. Sometimes the adrenaline pumping through her veins masks the pain of a burning rune and the blood sliding down various parts of her body.

 

It’s like this; Clary has never been normal, but now she can't be. She’ll always know these things until she dies. The security and safety of her mundane but normal world has eroded. She can't go back. The option is gone. Her security net is gone, and the comfort of a normal life lies in the deepest part of her memory.

 

And that’s something she’ll never get back.

 


End file.
